Adrenaline rush
by Roo1965
Summary: Night manoeuvres for Jim leave a lasting impression. Gen. Various POV's. Jim owies.


**Adrenaline Rush** by Roo

Summary: Night manoeuvres for Jim leave an impression…..various POV's

notes: unbeta'd- any medical or procedural inaccuracies entirely my fault. Very late dues, written 14th-28th January 2008.

* * *

It was late at night, dark and cold and they'd been waiting for something to happen. Tired but wired, Jim breathed deeply and focused again on the scene in front of him. A warehouse district in the slightly grubby end of town. Like waiting for battle this would probably turn out to be 99 percent boredom and 1 percent pure adrenaline terror filled hyper alertness trying to survive. The team had been in place for hours.

Thirty minutes later the buyers turned up, a black van and a silver car. Three men got out of the car and one pulled the sliding door of the van open. The sellers security man emerged out of the warehouse vetted them and they went inside. Then it all went to hell. Months of careful planning, liaison and undercover work went for shit. Jim focussed on the voices, trying to work out what was going on and even as Jim began to say "No, he's been made," into his earpiece, Sullivan was shot at point blank range. There was more shouting and shooting inside the warehouse before men emerged, one was limping, another carried a briefcase.

At this point the police intervened "Cascade Police! Hands up! You are surrounded!" sounding more like any TV cop show than the real thing that they were.

The bad guys tried to drive off in the car, yelling for the van to go too. The tires were shot out and the van slewed into railing and stopped. A fierce gun battle ensued and it was mayhem- voices shouting in Jim's ear and in front of him as he moved closer in sheltered crouches. Bullets and curses whizzed past him.

Suddenly there was calm, the smell of cordite strong in the air, burnt rubber from the shredded titre and sweat and fear and coppery blood flooded Jim's senses. He tamped it down like a guttering flame, waiting for more information to be relayed on numbers and who was who. After a few more tense minutes an all clear sounded for the outside. More squad cars turned up, ambulances arrived and people milled everywhere.

As they rounded up the suspects they tallied up numbers. It was only now they could approach Sullivan's body, but there was no chance he was alive. 'Damn what a mess' Jim thought looking at the head wound. He stood up and turned to survey the scene inside the warehouse. Something was 'off', he just wasn't sure what.

He continued to search the site along with other officers, tuning in and out of the radio chatter in his ear. Jim reported in where he had searched and cleared, registering at some point that Simon had turned up as well. As he reached the back of the warehouse he focussed his hearing on someone using a cell phone outside.

Quietly he opened the door a crack and saw what appeared to be a member of the police team, still wearing his lightweight Police windbreaker walking up and down next to commercial dumpsters and canisters next to chain link fencing.

"Okay I'm where you said I had to be. What the hell was that? You weren't supposed to shoot Sullivan! What about me? What surprise?" he listened anxiously "What do you mean it'll be alright?! I did what you asked. This is the last time!" pause "Okay then. We're done? Yeah? Okay." He ended the call.

Jim left it half a minute before stepping outside and approached the man, pretending he hadn't heard. "Hey, everything clear out here? Murphy is it?"

Murphy spun round, "What? Oh. Clear. I was just thinking about Sullivan, you know. Back there."

"Okay, let's go back inside." Jim offered staring out at the dark windows facing them, one hand behind his back edging out his handcuffs.

By the time the first flash registered in his subconscious, it was too late even as he shouted into his earpiece. Jim tried to warn the other as he instinctively returned fire. Time slowed. The sharp tat- tat- tat of distant gunfire stitched across Murphy and then Jim. The impact threw him heavily sideways against the metal dumpster, tangling with Murphy in a loose sprawl. Head ringing he fought to breathe as he slid unceremoniously to the ground. Time speeded up again as he heard more shouting. Voices rushed in at him. He flinched when a hand touched his arm and fingers pressed against his carotid.

"Jesus. I have two men down, I repeat two men down. Requesting assistance. Shooter unknown, but maybe Murphy or Ellison got him? I can't see anyone or anything out here apart from a broken window, it's pitch black."

"M'fine. Did I get him?" Jim muttered thickly, opening his eyes to see another member of the operational team, Simmons kneeling next to him.

"Shit! I thought you were dead as well as Murphy!"

"Thank God for Kevlar huh?" Jim said taking a shaky breath, wincing at the bruising he could already feel forming under the impacts. His heart was going a mile a minute. Phew, what a rush!

"Don't make Kevlar for the head though. His head's almost clean off! Oh, God." Simmons stood up and stumbled a few feet away and threw up noisily.

Jim lay there gathering the energy to get up as well. He was pretty sure he was okay, just bruised. Something was bothering him about Murphy's call. It was obvious that he'd been lured to the back to be killed because he done something wrong, or what?

Jim was helped to his feet, one hand pressed against his right side as he tried to cut through the radio squawking and melee. By now more police had begun to enter the warehouse and were heading towards the back.

Dumpsters. Cannisters. Where they supposed to be here? There was hardly any room here for the commercial sanitation trucks to get by without….surprise….

Pushing himself away from Simmons. "I think there's a bomb or chemicals or something in these," Jim said gesturing towards the dumpsters and canisters.

Simmons flinched. "What? How'd you get that?"

"Don't touch them! Let me look first. Gimmee your flashlight?" although Jim could see perfectly well in the dark he didn't know Simmons that well and he didn't want him seeing something he shouldn't. Supposing Jim was right that was, about the dumpsters, if not he could pretend it was concussion. He turned back to the dumpsters looking for clues. Under the smell of rotting garbage there was something else….

If the shooter was still there, he could have set it off any time he wanted. If he had been scared off, he could still press it. Perhaps there was a timer? No, too risky. No, someone was still watching. He focussed on the window the shots had come from; there was still a rifle or something in front of the window. He could hear laboured breathing, rapid heartbeat and a thud. It was quiet. But the heart still beat. Not dead yet then…badly injured? Could still be a danger…

"Simon, it's Jim."

"Thank God, I heard you'd been…"

"Stop! No time for that. Tell all the men to exit the warehouse until I say it's clear. Notify Bomb squad. There a device in the dumpster here, it's all a big trap Simon…"

"Hang on Jim, I have to take this…" A moment later Simon was back "You aren't going to believe this but there's camera and it's relaying a delayed feed straight to the local news station...as in live feed…"

"I got the shooter but he's still alive. I need to get over there. He's where the camera is…I know, I can save time this way, Simon."

"Look if you're worried about how it'll look I can go out in one of the ambulances our front, drop off round the corner and double back, easy in easy out…time's running out Simon…"

"Okay. Do what you have to. Bomb squad are on their way. I'll warn the ambulance crew."

"Roger that. I'm on my way back out to the front of the building."

Jim exited the warehouse, feeling like years not minutes had passed since he'd gone in. Headlights and blue and red strobing lights from squad cars and the ambulances lit the night turning people's faces odd colours. He headed for the ambulance, and checked with the driver reinforcing what Simon had told him. Simon was waiting.

"It's okay, Simon."

"Sure? Simmons said you were shot." The paramedic in the back looked at Jim as he climbed in next to the loaded gurneys.

"Fine. Kevlar did it's job." But he couldn't disguise the wince as he got into the seat and twisted to check his weapon. "Let's go. No lights. Quiet and easy."

The vehicle drove off into the dark.

0o0o0o0

Across town, celebrating a colleague's birthday in a late night bar with University friends, Blair watched slack jawed with the other patrons as the TV went over to live feed. The colour was an odd greeny white- night vision, he realised. He knew this had to be the big 'Thing' that had exercised Simon and then Jim on and off for months, dealing with possible/probable interference from ATF or Narcotics division. He hadn't known it was tonight. Jim had seemed his normal self earlier. The inside man must have alerted them and it had gone down very fast.

He watched in morbid fascination as events unfolded, a car and a van, men going into the warehouse. Noise, then men running out, a police warning then more shots and lots of shouting. Shadows flitted and shot sparked in the dark. Then there was calm and a sense of winners, losers and clearing up. Nothing happened for a while then there was a burst of gunfire from the back of the warehouse.

There was a pause and the image changed to show that view. An officer emerged from the back waiting then talking on the phone, the door behind him opening slightly then shutting. Then another officer moving towards the first one hand moving behind his back. The camera image suddenly shadowed by something next to it and the window shattered. The camera lens suddenly pointed up at the ceiling, then back towards the warehouse but slightly off. Through a broken window pane- two sprawled bodies could be seen. Then an officer arrived to check out the scene. It was only when one of the 'bodies' stood up gingerly and looked around, that Blair recognised Jim's stance and the way his head was cocked to one side listening for something. There was movement round the dumpster. Then everyone disappeared. The camera continued to record in silence, trained on the warehouse in front of it for quite a while.

Suddenly the camera toppled over and 'Blair Witch like'- faces and disjointed images in jerky motion flooded the lens. A bloodied hand reached for the camera and rotated to reveal a man face down on the floor handcuffed hands behind his back. Then the camera was turned off.

Blair left messages on Simon and Jim's phones, hoping they'd call him back soon. He didn't know where to go, to the apartment to wait, to Major Crimes or even to the hospital.

o0o0o0o0

Jim's second big adrenaline rush of the evening, kept him pumped up as he radioed the all clear on the bomb. He had disarmed and destroyed the detonator and had the shooter in custody. He was beginning to feel the effects of the Kevlar bruising and fight with the suspect as he waited for uniforms to give him a hand. He detached the live feed and with gloves on, used the camera as a forensic tool to record the room, the position of things. He bagged the detonator to give to the bomb squad. He grunted in pain as he got up from kneeling on the floor, pulling the dazed suspect up with him. Damn bruises.

He met the uniformed officers and handed the man off to them, following behind with his baggie and the camera equipment. He was glad to be back outside in the cool night air, he was all sweaty in his gear and from the fight. He put the camera in the trunk and got in the front next to the driver. "Back to the station please. He'll need to duty medic when we get there after processing." Jim drifted for a bit aching and shaking a little with the down side of the 'fight or flight' action he'd just had.

Back at the Police station he took his suspect and evidence to admissions and processing. He quickly filled out a form and signed several pages. It was all a bit startling- the bright lights and whiteness of it all after being in the dark for what seemed like hours. With his man in the system being photographed, he felt he could give himself a few minutes to clean up a little and then he would come back and begin getting some answers. He felt light headed and thirsty. "Be back in a bit," he excused himself. The duty officer just waved him off and carried on with his paperwork and the man in front of him.

It was some time later that the duty officer looked up to find Captain Banks standing there.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Detective Ellison. I heard he brought in his man and evidence. But no-one has seen him. "

"That's right he was here, let's see. Booked in at 00.32, said he'd be back in a bit. He did look a mess, sir."

"Well he's not upstairs. I'll check down here. Thanks."

Simon was worried, it was unlike Jim to just go off and leave a suspect in limbo like this, especially when they needed information and proof. And there were other people to interview as well; it was going to be an all-nighter. Five minutes later he found Jim in one of the restrooms, slumped on the floor, a pool of blood under his right side. He rushed over and checked his pulse- still beating. He got up and jogged back to the processing desk.

"Ellison's collapsed, some internal injury, blood loss. Phone for an ambulance and raise the duty doctor to come to this floors second restroom. Hurry." He went back; Jim hadn't moved and didn't rouse either when Simon spoke to him. The sound of the running tap was distracting him, so he turned it off. Grabbing a big wad of paper towels he tried to stem the bleeding without moving Jim. Kneeling on the floor he could see water on the floor near Jim and a bar of soap. Perhaps he'd passed out when he dropped the soap and bent down to pick it up, Simon wondered.

The door burst open and the duty doctor appeared with his bag. Simon filled him in. Together they logged rolled Jim onto his back, in case there was a head or neck injury. Simon carried on pressing against the blood, whilst the doc did his thing checking his head, neck, pupil response and BP and pulse.

Carefully they undid the Kevlar vest at the sides and took it off and lifted up Jim's black long sleeved sweater. His white under vest had a large blood stain on his right side. When this too was pulled up it revealed a bloody hole and two more bruises in a rough diagonal line. When they gently rolled Jim they found another bloody hole- a through and through. By the time the paramedics arrived, Jim was patched and had both Simon and the medic's coats over him for warmth. The medic passed on the data and Jim was quickly IV'd and put on oxygen ready for transport to Cascade General. Simon walked with them to the elevator.

"Sir, are you following us to the hospital? Do you have POA for him?"

"A friend with his POA documentation has been informed and is en route, his name's Sandburg. I'd love to come along but there are things in motion here that I can't leave…"

"Understood. I've made a note of the POA so the ER will look out for him."

"He's going to be alright isn't he?" Simon asked as the doors shut and the numbers descended.

"Lost a significant amount of blood, low BP, shock certainly but he looks pretty fit, so I'd say once they stitch him up and pump him full of blood again- he should be okay. I stress _should_."

"Thanks." Simon called after them as they pushed the gurney out of the elevator to the back of the ambulance. Within seconds they were in, doors shut and they drove off, lights and sirens wailing.

0o0o0o0o0

The very nice meal that Blair had had with his friends sat like lead in his stomach as he waited for Jim to come out of surgery. The pleasant beer buzz he'd had now left him with an annoying headache. He was used to late nights but this night was never ending. The awful coffee was keeping him wired if his nerves weren't. His butt was numb from the plastic chairs every hospital bought in bulk; they _really_ should look into more ergonomic ones he vowed to find some and tell the company to contact the hospital.

He got up and stretched and walked down the corridor once more. Every half hour or so he checked in with Simon or left messages for him. X Rays hadn't revealed any significant head or neck injuries, but Jim probably had a mild concussion from hitting the dumpster and maybe from the fight with the suspect. No, he hadn't broken any ribs but one showed a hairline fracture. Nor had he damaged any internal organs and there was no internal bleeding.

All in all Jim was lucky, just a lot of bruising, loss of blood and two bullet wounds. He would recover from this given a little time. Blair wondered if he could forget watching the police operation on prime time TV. Presumably when things settled down Simon would tell him and Jim why it was a trap and why someone felt it necessary to expose the police and or the bad guys on TV. May be the guy was just nuts, who knew? Blair certainly didn't and right now his only concern was for Jim and how he would cope with the surgery and anaesthetic.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Gradually Jim realised he recognised the smells- a hospital. He felt too foggy to worry about it. The cotton sheets were nice and he felt warm enough. It was too much effort to open his eyes and see. The noises were far off and he sank back into the languid warmth.

The next time he was aware of things, he could definitely feel the pinch of needles in his left arm and an awful plasticky thing over his mouth. His arm felt like lead when he tried to move it though, so he gave up and chuffed an annoyed breath into the mask.

"Jim? You waking up for me? It's Blair, you're okay everything's fine."

If everything was fine, then why was he in a hospital? he vaguely wondered. He must have made a noise.

"Did you say something Jim? Come on open your eyes, the Doc's waiting to see your baby blues!"

Struggling hard Jim managed to ungum his eyelids and blink, focussing on the face with the curly hair and bright eyes that looked back at him. Blair.

"That's better! How're you feeling?"

Jim thought about it.

"Hey stay awake. The doc wants to see you."

Jim hadn't realised his eyes drifted shut again "Tired." he breathed into the mask.

"What?"

Jim frowned and tried to lift his arm up to the annoying mask. Blair's hand trapped it on the bed.

"Leave it until they say you can take it off."

A straw poked his cheek, Blair lifted the mask and Jim sucked in welcome water. "Better?" Jim nodded.

Jim opened his eyes again, it was easier this time. He managed to smile at Blair. If he said everything was okay, then it was. Besides he didn't look too stressed out, like Jim was dying or anything. Machines monitored his BP- the inflating cuff on his arm and itchy sticky pads for the heart. At least the annoying beep was turned off, he bet that was Blair's doing.

"I don't remember getting run over by a 16 wheeler," he said.

"Didn't quite get that,"

Jim rolled his eyes as Blair looked at the door and lifted the mask slightly.

"I said, I don't remember getting run over by a 16 wheeler,"

"You didn't," replied Blair popping the mask back on, to Jim's annoyance. "Don't frown at me Jim. You lost a lot of blood, that's why you feel sluggish. You remember getting shot? One went through, the others just bruised your ribs."

"Piece of cake." Jim muttered.

"Cake? You want cake already?"

"No, oh forget it." But the confused look on Blair's face made him laugh, which wasn't so funny it turned out because it made things hurt. "Ow, don't make me laugh!" he groaned as he grabbed his tender side.

The doctor turned up at this point and he had to go through the rigmarole of following fingers and saying what hurt and what they'd done to patch him up. As they gave him his latest meds he suffered through a lecture on how dangerous it was to ignore a bleeding wound such as his and how bad things could have been. He listened and tried to explain that he really hadn't thought he had a flesh wound, he'd been too busy catching bad guys and trying to save police lives, which in his book, over-rode his own injuries. The doctor wasn't convinced but Blair had heard it before.

They checked his dressings covered him back up and told him to rest and eat and he could be out soon. He was so excited he went back to sleep.

When Jim woke up again, he knew something was up, he felt too hot and sticky and just _wrong_. He blinked his eyes open; Blair was asleep in the chair next to him. His face mask had gone as had the inflating BP cuff. He felt like he was wading through molasses. He fumbled for the call button and pressed it. He reached for the cup on the tray over his bed and tried to throw it at Blair. It missed but bounced noisily on the floor which had the same effect. Blair shot upright, magazine slipping to the floor. "What?"

It felt like everything he'd ever eaten was rushing up from his toes and was about to erupt from his head, probably his ears and God knows where else.

"Sick," Blair took in his green colour, hand over mouth and leaped for a bowl.

Too late, Mount Vesuvius erupted.

Not over Blair luckily, he wasn't sure Blair would forgive him for that. As for the bed and floor Jim was pretty sure they'd seen plenty of barfing. Oh God, he shouldn't have thought that word. Round two. Yeuch.

Through the flurry of nurses and the doctor, Blair lurked in the background. Jim finally got to clean his mouth out, when they knew round three wasn't on the cards. His temperature was taken. Another antibiotic was ordered as well as something for the nausea. Jim didn't feel too self conscious as he lay there, semi exposed as they swabbed the wound, cleaned it and re dressed it and finally tugged his gown down. They were informed that his wounds were inflamed but that it should right itself with the new meds. One nurse left with half his bedding, another appeared with replacements and as she stood on the non splattered side of the room, someone came to clean the floor.

Calm descended once more as Jim lay all hot and bothered, waiting for Blair to say something before he fell asleep or threw up again; it was a toss up either way. Yes, he felt awful but the docs were right, it was a minor setback. He'd be alright in another 24 hours or so.

Blair was too quiet; Jim was worried that Blair was fretting about this.

"Well that was lot of fun…"

"Sorry."

"You said it was a piece of cake."

"Ow, no food comments from the peanut gallery and no making me laugh, okay?" muttered Jim huffily as the meds kicked in and he drifted off, wondering slightly what would happen the next time he woke up.

"Sure Jim. I'll be here."

And Jim knew he would be, like he would for Blair if the situation were reversed, not that he wished this on Blair….crap…could he go to sleep now?

END.


End file.
